


Hello Sunshine, Hello Sky

by CplCrimp



Category: Warriors - Erin Hunter
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Mostly Fluff, Multi, Some battles some blood, my name is Aes i'm here to provide you with hcs and ships you never thought of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-16
Updated: 2019-03-27
Packaged: 2019-11-19 11:06:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 9,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18134942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CplCrimp/pseuds/CplCrimp
Summary: Skyclan Ficlets / requests open





	1. Cherrytail

Cherrytail had been feeling all too depressed lately. Between her recurring nightmares being full of rats and foxes now, she couldn't catch so much as a feather. For a while she just laid on the grass, thrush's feather in her claws. Sparrowpelt and Rabbitleap, also on the patrol, looked down at her pitifully though didn't offer help. So Cherrytail came back to the gorge empty-pawed and retired straight to the warriors den as a drizzle started to coat her pelt.

And she laid. Sleep was pulling heavy on her eyes but she knew if she closed them she'd be yowling and panicking again within seconds.

"Hey, Cherrytail?" called a voice she faintly recognized.

She sat up a bit. "Ebonyclaw?"

The she-cat nodded, picking up a fat squirrel. The moss under her collar was dry and her bell jingled with every step, not that any napping warrior she stepped over noticed.

As Ebonyclaw laid down beside her, pushing the squirrel in her direction, Cherrytail sighed and pressed her muzzle into Ebonyclaw's thick neck fur.

Ebonyclaw smiled and took a bite from its stomach, "Echosong told me the good news," she mewed, mouth full.

"What good news?" Cherrytail echoed, crunching the squirrels skull before taking her own bite.

"She didn't tell you?"

"No."

"A few days ago, whenever you went in to her den sick? She didn't tell you?"

"No!" Cherrytail giggled, slowly rising back up.

"You're expecting kits, Cherrytail," she whispered, "And I… I figured they were mine."

Cherrytail felt like her heart was about to burst. Any trace of sadness was gone as soon as the words left her mates mouth.

"Really?" she whispered.

"Yeah!" Ebonyclaw mewed, then her expression shifted, "Do you… want them?"

"...truthfully I didn't expect them so soon, but," she airily laughed, "They're ours. I love them so much already."

She purred heavily and pressed their noses together. Ebonyclaw stood up for a moment to toss out the prey's bones, then laid right back down beside Cherrytail. Cherrytail could nearly taste her breath they laid so close.

"Hey, Cherrytail?" Ebonyclaw whispered.

"Yes?"

"I love you."

Cherrytail purred, "I love you too."


	2. Petalpaw

Petalpaw heard Whitewhisker and Fennelstar talking softly in his den. She'd been waiting there a long time, waiting for one to pause so she may enter. Until, finally, her patience was rewarded and she ducked her head through the ferns.

"Fennelstar? May I come in?" it took her eyes much longer to adjust to the darkness than the average Skyclan cat's.

"Petalpaw?" mewed Fennelstar, Petalpaw finally seeing the toms were curled into eachother. Whitewhisker got up with a start, "Yes, come in, dearie."

She nodded and sat right at the small entrance, curling her tail over her paws and dipping her head respectfully.

"What is it?" asked Whitewhisker, as blunt as his whiskers.

"Well, you see," she mewed quietly. She'd prepared and replayed this conversation so many times in her head, she wouldn't let herself get nervous. "I had a… suggestion for my warrior name. I overheard Flypaw's mentor say she was running out of things to teach him, and we  _are_ the same age."

"Petalpaw," mewed Whitewhisker, making Petalpaw dip her head further and force herself to keep her fur flat as she prepared for the worst, "Every apprentice dreams of what their warrior name will be. Warrior names are specially chosen by a leader to represent what are your finest skills."

Fennelstar slightly nodded and Petalpaw defeatedly prepared to leave, but Fennelstar said something else.

"Yes. But tell me anyway, Petalpaw."

Petalpaw's heart just started beating faster, and she lost all her composure in attempt to calm herself.

"Oh, um- uh- I w-was thinking-" she sputtered out, taking a deep breath in and out several times just like Twigtail and his apprentice had taught her to do after her seizures. "Petalfall."

Both of the toms eyes widened, Fennelstar's light fur stood up and Whitewhisker straightened.

" _Petalfall?"_ repeated Fennelstar, "Don't you think it's cruel? Naming yourself after… that part of you?"

Petalpaw nearly bristled herself. She knew Fennelstar wanted to call it the  _weakest_ part of her, the  _worst_ part of her.

She blinked, "Twigtail has a bend in his tail and was named after it. And my guide was named Oddfoot, he had his foot twisted in!"

Fennelstar blinked, "But Petalpaw your… your falling sickness is debilitating! And if you go into battle with the name  _Petalfall_ everyone will know of your biggest…"

"Cats can't suddenly make me have a seizure," she spat back, "And I think Petalfall would tell them about it, and yet here I am, proving I am more than that!"

Fennelstar stared at her for a long time, neither toms saying anything. Until, finally, the two cast a glance at eachother and Fennelstar sighed.

"Go to bed, Petalpaw," was all he said. Petalpaw, defeated, did as she was told.

(...)

Petalpaw was sitting beside the white-and-black tom. Flypaw, recently named Flyheart, was bounding with excitement, but Petalpaw not so much. It was her warrior ceremony, and she couldn't help but feel embarrassed for the request she had made.

"I, Fennelstar, leader of Skyclan, call upon my warrior ancestors to look down on this apprentice. She has trained hard to understand the ways of your noble code, and I commend her to you as a warrior in her turn. Petalpaw, do you promise to uphold the warrior code and to protect and defend your Clan, even at the cost of your life?

Petalpaw dipped her head, more in fear than respect. "I do."

"Then by the powers of StarClan, I give you your warrior name. Petalpaw, from this moment on you will be known as Petalfall."


	3. Squirrelfur

Phoenix panted and stopped, involuntary falling onto his haunches. He was terrified. He was running into the forest to escape his awful housefolk. He didn’t know where else to go, he was too scared other housefolk would hurt him more. Then again, he was just as scared that the kittentales his mother had told him about the nature-named cats who ate skin and bones were real.

Hearing the dark bushes around him rustle and hearing a faint speech didn’t help.

“I scent something, dad.” mewed a high-voiced cat.

“What is it?” came a gruffer, deeper voice.

“Smells like cat,” he went on, crunching a twig, “But not like forest.”

“Mothpaw, watch where you’re going, a twig snap could alert it!” he sighed, “I think that’d be kittypet.”

“Kittypet?”

“Yes. Pampered little Twoleg cats who do nothing but lay in the sun and get pellets of dirt shoved in their mouth.”

_ “Euck!  _ What self-respecting cat eats  _ dirt?!” _

Then they emerged, stepping into the sunny spot. Phoenix realized he had no place to hide. He also realized that Mothpaw couldn’t be very much older than him, but his father looked strong, full-grown, and angry. Mothpaw’s eyes widened at him, though his father wasn’t paying attention, sniffing around the trees. Mothpaw stepped closer.

“Hi! What’s your name-” he shook his head, “No! I mean, this is Skyclan territory, rogue, get lost!”

Phoenix shook his head pathetically and looked around. Nature, nature, nature. He spotted a squirrel climbing up a maple tree and decided to take his chances.

“Squirrel! My name is Squirrel.”

Mothpaw nodded and his eyes glittered, “Well, hello, Squirrel!”

_ “Mothpaw!”  _ scolded his father, squinting in the direction of Squirrel’s-  _ Phoenix’s? No, I’m not a kittypet anymore-  _ tags. “Don’t talk to that, that’s a kittypet!”

“Oh…” he said, defeatedly. He fluffed up his neck and bared his teeth. “Run, kittypet, before I claw your throat out!”

“That’s it, son!”

Squirrel let out a breath, “I’m sorry, sirs, I-I can’t… move,” he looked down at his pathetic hind legs, one was bent strangely near his foot. “I’m running from my housefolk, please, they’ll hurt me, please help.”

Mothpaw’s father shook his head, “No. Leave.”

“Dad…” Mothpaw said quietly, flattening his ears and staring at Squirrel’s bent leg before turning to his father, “He’s hurt.”

“I don’t care, Mothpaw, he is outside the warrior code and it is not our job to help them. Come on,” he mewed before heading off. 

“Hang on, I think I heard a stray rabbit!” Mothpaw flattened his ears and turned back to Squirrel. “I’m sorry for Beechstar,” he said quietly, “Do you think you can move enough to get under this bush?” he headed toward a lighter-leaved one, about the same color as Squirrel’s collar. “It’s soft.”

Squirrel heaved and panted, straining to stand and drag his hurt leg. He carefully crouched and climbed into the bush, straining his hips to move his broken leg. Mothpaw nodded, “Wait here. I’ll bring Robinpaw at sunset.”

Squirrel nodded and shut his eyes. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been asleep, but he eventually heard Mothpaw drop some sort of bird at his jaws before scampering off. Squirrel had never been allowed to eat birds before and, cautiously and nervously, he pricked off the feathers near the breast and took a small bite. It tasted nothing like his pellets and he wasn’t sure if it was better or worse, but he managed to eat the entire thing before dozing off again.

(...)

“Squirrel… Squirrel…!”

Squirrel tiredly opened his eyes. Mothpaw’s black-and-brown dappled face stood, crouched, in front of him. Behind him sat the striking ginger cat Squirrel assumed was Robinpaw. 

“Squirrel?” Robinpaw mewed, “What Twoleg names their pet Squirrel?”

Mothpaw shrugged, “Come on, let’s help him back to camp, one of his legs is messed up.”

Robinpaw nodded, nudging one of Squirrel’s shoulders up. Mothpaw helped balance Squirrel on his other side, outside of the bush. Robinpaw’s fur was softer and thicker than Mothpaw’s, and if he wasn’t on Squirrel’s hurt side, he would’ve leaned that way.

The three cats padded through the forest, dark red and orange with the sunset. Eventually they stopped and faced a bramble-wove tunnel.

“Oh,” mewed Mothpaw, “I, uh, forgot. Our entrance is brambles.”

“Squirrel’s fur feels pretty thick,” Robinpaw mewed, “I think he can make it.”

“Yeah, but I don’t know if his leg can.”

“I’ll try, Mothpaw,” Squirrel mewed, stepping forward and crouching down.

Mothpaw blinked, “How do you know my name…?”

Squirrel said nothing, slowly scooting down the tunnel. He could faintly see cats around, laughing and talking and eating. As soon as his head was out of the tunnel, they all steadily froze, silenced, and turned. He couldn’t bare to use his hind legs anymore, so he didn’t. Robinpaw and Mothpaw, ears flat to their heads, came in after him.

Beechstar rushed over and immediately started yowling, “Mothpaw! What is  _ this?  _ A  _ kittypet?  _ And Robinpaw, you helped!? Honestly, I expected better from the both of you!”

“Beechstar,” called an old light-furred tom. Beechstar slowly turned around.

_ “Rainsplash?” _

“This kitten is injured, Beechstar,” mewed Rainsplash, “Let him get healed. He may prove to be a good warrior.”

Beechstar flattened his ears, “Fine. But if you mess up once, you are out of this clan. What’s your name?”

“Squirrel.”

“Squirrel… fine. The medicine den is the one covered in broom.”

Mothpaw and Robinpaw led him over, Mothpaw nearly bouncing on his paws.

“You’re gonna be Squirrelpaw! We’re gonna be warriors together!”

Squirrel couldn’t help smiling at the tom’s enthusiasm. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> squirrelfur's got some crushes~s


	4. Flystar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in my doc i called this one "baby mine" ;)

Flyheart heaved, and with one last strain, his head fell to the ground panting. He was exhausted. All of his fatherly instincts were telling him to bring his freshly queened kit to his stomach before he drowned in his tail or died of starvation. The thought of this innocent little child not even old enough to see the world dying hurt his heart just enough to carefully grab him and bring him forward.

He faintly remembered Quailfeather saying it was important for kittens to use their motor skills from the second they were born, so Flyheart, cautiously, set down the kit a kittenstep from a teat. He squirmed around a bit, mewling, and Flyheart deperately wanted to help him along, but before he could the kit squirmed against his paw and suckled onto him. Flyheart felt his heart soar.

His next instinct told him to lick the kit backward and warm him up, and tired as he was, went through with it. Satisfied, he looked at the little kit. His back was completely light blue, everywhere else was white.  _ Oh, he’s beautiful. _

Flyheart was always nervous about the kit. He’d secretly asked Quailfeather to check him out once every few sunrises, but no one else in the clan knew. Not even his fathers, Whitewhisker and Fennelstar. He’d been wondering if he should let it slip for the two moons he carried the kit and now, that the kitten was in the world…

He couldn’t become a rogue for six months, Skyclan would never forgive him- he was  _ deputy  _ for Starclan’s sake! Scared as he was, he had to take the kit back… worst case scenario, Hawksnow could nurse him alongside his triplets. No, that wasn’t the worst case scenario, worst case scenario--

_ No! No, if you think it, it’ll happen! _

He sighed. He could never forgive himself if he let Hawksnow raise his child. The kit’s other father was gone. Flyheart couldn’t let himself do the same to him. Too small. Too sweet.

The kit wasn’t even as tall as the grass around him. He was so, so small. Smaller than Hawksnow’s. He wanted to protect this kit with every fiber of his being.

Flyheart supposed he should name the kit. Hawksnow had named his Birdkit, Fawnkit and Fernkit. No theme… oh, he didn’t know what to do. Hawksnow, Starlingfeather and Fennelstar would help, he thought. Well, now or never, he’d convinced himself to go back.

“Come on, little one, we’re going for a walk,” he mewed, pretending the kitten could hear him. He picked up the kit, hurting his heart as he yowled his loudest. 

He carefully made his way back to camp, careful to keep the squirming and kicking kit from swinging. He ducked the kit into his neck and stuck out his front legs, carefully keeping him from hitting the ground or the brambles. Flyheart didn’t give the camp time to realize he was holding a kitten before ducking into the nursery and laying down on a spot beside Hawksnow, putting the kit back at his stomach. The dirt there wasn’t very hard or cold, it  _ was  _ greenleaf, but it certainly wasn’t moss-soft.

Hawksnow blinked at him. “Flyheart?” he mewed, “Is that a kit? And is that really you, suckling it?”

Flyheart nodded tiredly.

“I-I never realized,” he went on softly, “You always were a rather chubby cat, no offense. And that is a rather small kitten…”

“I know it,” Flyheart mewed back just as Starlingfeather arrived, just as shocked as Hawksnow. “I don’t know what to name him.”

“Well, let’s see,” Hawksnow said as Starlingfeather headed back out, presumably to grab Flyheart’s father. “You could go Snowkit or Stormkit, maybe Dovekit or Quailkit. Or maybe just go simple old Cloudkit.”

Flyheart nodded. “Yes. I like that.”

Then the ferns of the nursery crinkled as Starlingfeather stepped inside, curling around his mate and kits, licking a white spot on Hawksnow’s face. Fennelstar gasped as his gaze crossed Flyheart and his kit.

“Fl-Flyheart?”

“H-hi, dad,” he mewed quietly, “I’d like you to meet your grandson, Cloudkit.”


	5. Oddfoot

Oddfoot never expected he’d be a father. Not even as his little kit suckled as his stomachs did he think he would ever be a father.

He knew something would be wrong with his kit. He was deaf in one of his ears, he had a hard time talking and he was born with his foot twisted inward. His mother was cruel enough to name him  _ Oddkit  _ because of it. He didn’t plan on giving his son the same treatment.

“His name will be Twigkit,” he mewed to Morningmist, the molly who stayed in the nursery and helped with births and rearing kittens.

Morningmist nodded, “Is that for his bent tail?”

Oddfoot took another look at his white-and-brown beauty. He hadn’t even noticed the two little dips in his brown tail. Oddfoot shook his head angrily. He would  _ not  _ carry on his mother’s legacy.

“He is fairy skinny,” he mewed, trying to keep from yowling out his frustrations, “Especially his tail. His tail is skinny and brown, you know, Twigkit.”

Morningmist nodded, satisfied. Oddfoot placed a lick to his tiny kit’s head before drifting into sleep himself.

(...)

Of all things, Oddfoot never expected his kit to be blind. He expected him to be deaf like he was. He expected him to have a hard time at talking like he did. No, it seemed Twigkit-  _ Twigpaw,  _ as he had been for the last many months- had traded out his eyes for two working ears and a voice box so functional Oddfoot was sure it took up all of his throat.

“Dad, dad!” called his chatterbox of a son, rushing over from the entrance tunnel and into the moonlit clearing. His white fur seemed even brighter. He skidded on his paws and laid beside Oddfoot in front of the empty elder’s den, running his head under Oddfoot’s chin and purring.

“Hi, son.”

“I heard lots of news at the Moonstone tonight!!” he mewed enthusiastically, and Oddfoot was sure if he broke his very strict eyes-closed policy, they’d be as bright and starry as the sky above.

“Okay?” Oddfoot responded, laugh lighting his voice. “Did Quailfeather hear the same?”

“Yes, yes!” he exclaimed, “It was from the other clans!”

“Mhm?”

“Yeah! Wait, do you know the other medicine cat’s names?”

“Nope.”

“Oh. Well, Windclan said that they had a new, huge litter of kits! Five! Can you believe it? And their leader lost a life! And then Riverclan said that-”

“Twig…” Oddfoot mewed softly, “I don’t know much about being a medicine cat, but I thought the knowledge you learned there was meant to be kept secret.”

“Oh…” he said back, defeatedly. His voice quickly picked up again, “But it’s so hard to keep it all quiet!”

Oddfoot let out a  _ mrrow  _ of laughter. “I’ll show you a way to get it out first thing tomorrow morning, okay?”

“Thanks, dad!”

“Anytime, Twigpaw.”

“Oh!” he exclaimed, “My name’s not Twigpaw anymore!”

Oddfoot felt his heart both soar and sink. He was praying his hardest he didn’t get named something about his blindness. He voiced himself to keep his voice steady.

“Oh! Oh, I’m so proud of you! Well, speak up, son, what were your virtues?”

“Charisma and spirit!”

“That’s my boy!” Oddfoot growled a purr and rubbed their cheeks together. “Now, what’s your name!”

“Twigtail!”

There it was. Oddfoot’s heart sunk. Named after his bends.

“Now, dad,” he said, voice more quiet and serious, “I know you don’t like the thought of me being named after my tail. But I really like my name! And you’re my biggest role model!”

Oddfoot blinked and felt his heart return to its place, no further. “...huh?”

“Yeah!” he said happily, “Your name is Oddfoot, but you’re so much more than your odd foot! You’re one of the best warriors in Skyclan, I heard Rowanstar say so!”

Oddfoot blinked. Rowanstar said he was the best warrior in the clan and Twigtail looked up to his estranged father. He felt his entire body heat up and felt his chest fill with feathers.

“Oh, Twigtail,” he said quietly, trying to keep his voice from breaking, “That means so much. Thank you. I love you.”

“I love you too, dad! Hey, can I sleep next to you in the warrior’s den tonight?”

“Of course, Twiggie.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> change in personal timelime, change in twigtail's mentor!


	6. Twigtail

“Dad! Dad, dad, dad!”

_ “Mrgh….  _ What?”

Twigtail would’ve rolled his eyes. “Come on! You promised to show me how to get secrets out last night!”

“Yeah, yeah…” Oddfoot rolled over onto his stomach, using his shorter leg to lift the rest of his body. He shook his head and yawned, blinking, eyes still heavy with sleep. He looked past Twigtail and then around the den. “Starclan, it’s hardly even dawn.”

Twigtail nodded enthusiastically. Oddfoot sighed, cautiously leading Twigtail over the sleeping warriors. He closed his eyes tight in the cold sunlight of the camp. Without a word to Rowanstar and the gathering dawn patrol, the two times headed out. Twigtail was pressed close to Oddfoot.

“Where are he going?” he chirped.

“Down by the river.”

“Oh,” he mewed quietly, “Do you think Riverclan will try to fight us?”

“Riverclan knows better to attack a medicine cat,” he purred a laugh, “It’s still our shoreline. We’ll be fine.”

Twigtail nodded and stopped when Oddfoot told him to.

“There’s a shell in front of you,” he mewed calmingly, “Do you feel it?”

Twigtail carefully reached out and felt around. Soon enough his paw landed on a small, cold, ridged thing that came to a point at the end.

“Is this a shell?”

“Yes.”

“It feels pretty.” He crouched down, touching the swirly shell with his whiskers so he wouldn’t lose it. “Now what?”

“Now you whisper your secrets into it.”

Twigtail nodded and did so. He whispered everything, careful to make sure Oddfoot wouldn’t hear. Once he was finished, he sat back up with a paw on the shell.

“Did I do it?”

“Not yet,” Oddfoot stepped closer and tapped Twigtail’s hips with his tail, coaxing him to stand. “Pick up the shell.”

Twigtail did so, carefully. He expected it to be a bit smaller and less covered with gritty sand, but he held it by the shorter side tightly but carefully in his jaws. Oddfoot nodded approvingly. He spoke softly, carefully luring Twigtail to step into a shallow part of the river. The cold water flowed past quickly, and if Oddfoot wasn’t standing behind him, Twigtail was sure it would drag him away.

Oddfoot used his muzzle to nudge Twigtail’s head upward a bit, then turned him ever so slightly.

“Alright, good. Now, Twigtail, throw that shell as far as you can!”

Twigtail shut his eyes tighter cautiously. He was nervous he’d end up hitting a cat square in the forehead on either side. Nevertheless, he tried, twisting his head and releasing the shell. It landed with a pathetic  _ thiwp!  _ and Twigtail was sure it didn’t go very far.

“Nice job!” encouraged Oddfoot, purring and rubbing their cheeks together. Twigtail smiled. “Do you feel better, now?”

Twigtail nodded enthusiastically. Oddfoot purred.

“Great. Now I’m going back to bed.”

Twigtail would’ve rolled his eyes.  _ “Daaad!” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> based on that none arthur episode


	7. Dewstar

Dewheart purred. Her precious little bundles were safe and warm at her belly, snoring quietly with milk-full bellies and a tale about how their father was watching them proudly in Starclan. They all had strange blood-red pelts.

_ Wait. _

Two of the kittens were gone, turned into pools of blood. The one left behind was screaming in agony, covered in blood. Its eyes weren’t open and it’s ears weren’t popped, it’s mouth wasn’t moving but a scream came out.

No. That was Dewheart screaming. She reached out a shaky paw to try and pull the kit closer, to lick it clean of the blood and clean its pelt and give it a wonderful name. But when she hovered over the kit, it all turned to moss. Dewheart sighed and shook, burying her muzzle in her paws and sobbing as she remembered.

She was told she was going to have three kits. She tripped over a root and fell into the river and bled out two of them. When the time came to birth the one remaining, it came out dead. Drowned and covered in its sibling’s blood. Dewheart knew it wasn’t her fault, that there wasn’t anything she could do, but she so desperately wished she was strong enough to save her kits whenever they needed her protection most.

“Dewheart,” called a voice she hardly recognized. She felt leaves brush against her muzzle and paws and slowly looked up. Spiderpelt was crouched near her, he nodded back at the entrance and Maplestar stepped forward, a tiny little bundle in her jaws.

Dewheart felt her heart skip, she ate the borage leaves as fast as she could, cursing chewing and trying to swallow full chunks. She pressed her ears to her head as he chewed in desperation, Maplestar placing the kit to her stomach and licking it backward.

Eventually Dewheart ate and the kit nipped at her stomach. She stared for a few seconds, staring at the tiny bundle. She was brown all over save for a plumey, thick neck not unlike Dewheart’s. She felt a purr rise in her throat and she bend around to nuzzle the kit.

“Cruel, isn’t it?” mewed Spiderpelt after several seconds, “That a mother could just leave her child under a tree for a fox to eat?”

Maplestar shook her head, “Rogues work alone, Spiderpelt, I don’t figure she had anyone to watch it.”

“But how devastating. You’re trying to hunt so your kits to eat, you come back to find your kit gone and covered in fox scent.”

“Well, thank Starclan this one’s mother abandoned it. I mean, that isn’t good, but at least her mother will never have to deal with it.”

“Is that why she doesn’t smell of cat or milk?” Dewheart butted in quietly, gaze caught on the sweet little kitten.

Spiderpelt nodded, “Yes, thank Starclan we found it before a predator could.”

“And thank Starclan we had a queen!” Maplestar said with a laugh. Dewheart purred.

“What an innocent little thing,” she said softly, “What mother would leave you…?” She purred, curling her tail over the kitten, “No matter. I’m your mother now, and I’ll protect you with every fiber of my being.”

“She’s a beaut, too,” Maplestar mewed, “What strange patterning for a tortoiseshell. All her red is in that mane of hers.”

“She looks just like a robin, doesn’t she?” asked Spiderpelt with a laugh.

Dewheart nodded and purred. “Yes, I think Robinkit will do her nice.”


	8. Mothpelt

Mothpelt purred quietly, licking his stomach. It hadn’t been long enough to it to be obviously large, but it certainly was strange on his twig-thin stature. Both Squirrelfur and Robinflight were out hunting, and he knew he’d be back soon. Beechstar was asleep in his den and, impulsively, Mothpelt figured he’d tell him the good news.

He stuck his head through the ferns under the thorn tree, seeing Beechstar curled up in his bed, asleep.

“Beechstar? Are you awake?”

Beechstar made an uncomfortable noise and turned his drowsy head around. Soon after realizing it was Mothpelt, Beechstar’s eyes brightened.

“Son! What is it?”

Mothpelt entered the den, laying down beside him. “I have some good news! I’m expecting kits.”

Beechstar’s expression dropped. “Y-you’re expecting kits?” Mothpelt nodded. Beechstar sighed, “Mothpelt… I didn’t just let you become a tom for you to become a queen.”

Mothpelt flattened his ears to his head. “...what? I thought all new warriors were good.”

Beechstar shook his head and sighed again, gruffly, “Fine. Who’s the other father?”

“Squirrelfur!”

Beechstar’s eyes dulled and he bared his teeth, “You convince me to let a kittypet into the clan, then you convince me you’re going to have kits- but for you to mate with a kittypet? Mothpelt, I expected better from you!”

Mothpelt pressed his ears flat to his head, “But Squirrelfur is part of the clan now, what should blood matter? He’s a warrior!”

“Once a kittypet, always a kittypet!” Beechstar snapped, “Couldn’t you’ve had Robinflight’s! You two are always hanging around eachother!”

Mothpelt decided it was best for him to leave before he did something he would regret. He saw Robinflight and Squirrelfur drop birds at the fresh-kill pile and Mothpelt headed toward them. He buried his face into Squirrelfur’s pelt, whimpering quietly.

(...)

Beechstar never visited his granddaughter, not even when Mothpelt was screaming loud enough Shadowclan could hear giving birth to her. Mothpelt was panting on Squirrelfur’s paws, and the tom was licking his ears. Robinflight laid on one of Mothpelt’s legs.

When Mothpelt finally managed to gain his breath, he weakly mewed, “Robinflight… I’d like you to name the kit.”

Robinflight let out a light purr, “Oh, I don’t know. I’m thinking another bird, since we’ve already got a flight thing going on.”

Squirrelfur nodded for him to go on. Robinflight rolled his gray eyes and looked down at the kitten. She was white all over, save for the top half of her head, half her back, and front legs, save for her paws.

“...Hawkkit,” Robinflight mewed quietly.

“Hawkkit?” Mothpelt repeated, “Why?”

Robinflight shrugged, “Her patches kinda look like wings, and they are brown.”

Squirrelfur purred, licking Mothpelt’s ear again. “You like Hawkkit, Mothpelt?”

“I do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hawkkit = hawkstar, he's trans


	9. Hawkstar

Hawkstar always hated Riverclan.

He hated Riverclan the day they took his grandfather. He hated Riverclan the day they took his father. He hated Riverclan the day they took Dewstar.

And he hated Riverclan now, watching its warriors turn the water pink with blood splatter.

Hawkstar hissed, snapping his head around and pulling Ivystripe off his back by a paw. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Reedstar holding down Robinheart’s head in the water. He felt rage fill his body and he leaped hard into the fluffy dark tom. Reedstar hissed and spat, clawing at Hawkstar’s shoulders.

Then, suddenly, Hawkstar felt one slash dive into his neck.

He heard his heart beat in his ears and knew he couldn’t let Reedstar get away with this. Yowling and leaning down, he bit hard into his neck. Until, finally, both toms took their last breaths and the battle stopped as they realized.

When Hawkstar opened his eyes again, he wasn’t in bloody water. He was laying in a meadow, with clean, perfect climbing trees he could hardly see the tops off. He smiled and wiggles his hindquarters, ready to have the time of his life. Before he could, someone spoke.

“...son?”

Hawkstar shot around, “Dad?”

Mothpelt’s eyes lit up, “Hawkie!”

Hawkstar rushed over purring, rubbing his head under Mothpelt’s chin.

“Did you see me dad? I avenged you!”

Mothpelt blinked, “...you what?”

“I killed Reedstar! He was about to drown Robinheart-  _ Robinstar-  _ and I killed him. Skyclan won the war with Riverclan, and it was in your honor!”

Mothpelt blinked, his fur standing on end a moment. Hawkstar’s expression shifted. Mothpelt shut his eyes tight, shaking his head slowly. Hawkstar assumed he was remembering his own father’s death to Riverclan.

“Hawkstar…” he spoke softly, loosening the grip on his eyes, “Sometimes it’s better to forgive someone rather than get revenge on them. If either of us had known that, we’d still be alive.”

Hawkstar blinked and flattened his ears. Maybe he  _ had  _ been blinded by rage. Maybe that  _ was  _ an impulsive action. He nodded quietly.

“Whenever Robinstar comes to get her lives, I think I’ll give her one for forgiveness.”

Mothpelt smiled and blinked open his eyes, “I don’t think she’ll need to learn that.”


	10. Skystar

Skystar always wanted another shot at raising a son well.

He’d lost Thunderstar and regretted it deeply, and even in Starclan the two hardly spoke. Then Tiny Branch had died and once Skystar joined him in Starclan he’d grown up all on his own. He loved Dew Petal and Flower Foot as much as any father could, but he still felt the need to make it up.

“Hey, Skystar,” mewed Sparrowstar, “Skyclan tom was born recently, looks just like you.”

Skystar perked up a bit. “How recently? Can he hear?”

Sparrowstar nodded a bit, “He’s just learning to speak.”

Skystar nodded, padding away toward the edge of Starclan and leaping down gently. As soon as he landed in the center of the Skyclan camp, four little kittens tumbled through his paws. Skystar sat on his haunches and let them roll through, not quite remembering that they couldn’t feel him.

Skystar watched them quietly. Three were she-kits he figured were all from the same litter, the youngest was the tomkit that Sparrowstar had been speaking about. The oldest of the three sisters was the darkest brown tabby, the youngest pale brown and white, the middle a fair mix of her siblings.

“Drop that prey, nasty fox!” yowled the middle sister, tumbling over her rounder older sister. The tomkit promptly leaped on the pile, but the youngest sister picked up the moss they were using as prey and shot across camp.

“Yes!” squeaked the tom, “Good job, Fawnkit!”

Fawnkit let out a chirp and came back, dropping the moss as the dogpile dispersed. A dark ginger tabby tom, one ear still not popped, wobbly came over.

“Can I play!” he squeaked.

“No!” said the tomkit, “If we let you Flyheart will just scold us for hurting you!”

The young kitten frowned as the group ran off again, Fawnkit as their fox. Skystar quietly wrapped his tail around the kit. He thought Fircone would like to guide him.

Skystar watched until the sun set and their parents gathered the protesting yet sleepy kits into the nursery. Skystar sat close to the blue-and-white kit, sleeping next to the dark ginger tabby. When Skystar was sure he was asleep or was about to be, he pressed his nose to a little ear and entered his dream.

They were together in one of Starclan’s meadows, the kitten looking around with wide, blue eyes, not yet realizing Skystar was there. When he did, he jumped a bit, but strut right up. Skystar smiled.

“Hello kitten,” he mewed, trying his hardest to be soft, “What’s your name?”

“Cloudkit!” he squeaked, “What are you doing on Skyclan territory!”

Skystar let out a  _ mrrow  _ of laughter, “Cloudkit, you’re on  _ my  _ territory. This is Starclan.” Cloudkit’s eyes lit up. “Would you like to come on a walk with me, Cloudkit?”

Cloudkit gave one big nod, closing his eyes. Skystar smiled to himself and flicked his tail for the kitten to follow.

“I saw you playing earlier with your littermates-”

“Oh, they aren’t my littermates,” Cloudkit interrupted, “Well, Buzzardkit sorta is… Papa’s nursing him because Starlingfeather found him alone in the woods and you’re supposed to help all kits in danger!”

Skystar nodded, “What’s your papa’s name, Cloudkit?”

“Flyheart! He’s Fennelstar’s son!” 

Skystar nodded. Yes, he faintly remembered watching over Fennelstar’s life-giving ceremony. 

“Hey!” Cloudkit squeaked, “Who  _ are  _ you!”

“My name is Skystar, I founded your clan. I’m here to teach you the warrior code.”

Cloudkit’s eyes lit up, and soon enough he was bouncing around, begging for Skystar to teach him.


	11. Quailfeather

Quailfeather was lying in a sunny patch outside her den. It was times like these, when her old joints weren't working to cover bloody wounds in cobwebs and all was calm, was she ready for Starclan to take her. Not that she minded being alive, not whatsoever, she  _loved_ life, but times like these she realized she'd really seen it all. She saw Maplestar die and now she was living alongside Rowanstar. If her numbers were right, and she knew they were, she'd lived through five fast-passing leaders.

If she were a loner she figured she could've seen the whole world by now. But she couldn't hardly imagine a life outside Skyclan.

Besides, she thought, she would fight death until she'd trained an apprentice. She pricked an ear as she heard one of her two choices mention her name.

Poppycloud was watching both Mottlekit and Twigkit while Morningmist and Oddfoot were off on patrol. Quailfeather smiled to herself. Morningmist had never delivered kits, one moon, but she stayed in the nursery and helped with births and kitsitting. She was a huge help to Quailfeather.

"Oh, Quailfeather?" mewed Poppycloud, briefly glancing at the dark she-cat, "She's been medicine cat as long as anyone can remember…" Quailfeather could hear the motherly nursery-tale-tease in her voice, "Rumor has it she trained under Acornfur herself!"

Quailfeather let out a breath of laughter. She wasn't  _that_ old! She hummed to herself, mind filling with thoughts of her former mentor, Dashtail.

She didn't have long to dwell, however, as she heard the kits clumsy paws shuffle over. Twigkit, in fact, crashed into her. Not only did the skinny kitten have a natural kit-clumsiness, he also lacked sight. He shrunk back and shook his head, dragging a paw across his muzzle.

"Twigkit!" Mottlekit scolded, "You just ran into Acornfur's apprentice!"

"M'sorry!"

Quailfeather let out a  _mrrow_ of laughter. "Did your mother tell you I trained under Acornfur?" she questioned, pretending she hadn't heard the whole exchange.

The two kits gave big and fast nods, eyes and smiles bright with wonder. Quailfeather couldn't tell if it was wonder from her age or wonder from the thought that the first Skyclan cat to call themself a  _medicine cat_ trained her.

"Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I didn't." Quailfeather lowered her voice and her gaze, "But my  _mentor_  was!"

Both the kits immediantly perked up again, bouncing on their paws and begging Quailfeather tell them about her mentor. Quailfeather couldn't help purring.

"His name was Dashtail. He saw the  _very first code_  be made!"

Yes. Quailfeather  _loved_ life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dashtail was named after su's maggottail hc :>


	12. Whitewhisker

Whitewhisker watched quietly as a defeated-looking Sparrowpaw ducked into a den as dusk-light filled the gorge. Carefully, Whitewhisker leaped down from the tree he sat on and onto the warrior's ledge. So few cats. So much room. He padded toward Sparrowpaw, laying beside his sister with his nose tucked under his tail.

Whitewhisker placed his nose to his forehead and entered his dream. Sparrowpaw was scraping at a tree, trying to climb. It seemed a few fox-lengths higher than the trees around the gorge's territory. Sparrowpaw had yet to notice Whitewhisker.

He jumped, scraping at the trees. Bark splintered under his paws and he slid down, landing on his hindquarters with a grunt. Worse than he was going when he was awake, and Whitewhisker figured that was how he saw himself.

He took one step forward, snapping a twig and making both toms jump. Sparrowpaw jerked around, eyes wide and claws unsheathed. He pricked his ears up.

" _Wwwhhho_ are you?"

Whitewhisker dipped his head, "My name is Whitewhisker, I lived in Skyclan long ago," he noticed Sparrowpaw's eyes stretch wide in wonder and went on, "I've been watching you. I noticed you were having trouble with attacks."

Sparrowpaw turned around all the way, giving a heavy nod and sighing. "I think my hind legs are stronger than my front ones," he admitted.

Whitewhisker nodded, "Well, lucky for you, Sparrowpaw, me too! And you wanna know the real kicker?"

Sparrowpaw tilted his head up a bit and nodded.

"Back when Skyclan lived in the forest, we had moves just for that!"

Sparrowpaw perked up, so Whitewhisker pushed him out of the way and turned around.

"Cats like us are lucky because we have more coordination than our clanmates."

"You think?"

"Yes!" Whitewhisker placed one hind paw on the base of the tree, "Your mentor will surely be impressed!"

Sparrowpaw smiled.

"We have two moves for cats like us," Whitewhisker went on, "The Reverse Climb and the Reverse Branch Swing." Whitewhisker chuckled and looked behind him for a moment, "I reckon you can  _guess_ what the reverse climb is."

Then, almost effortlessly, Whitewhisker slowly climbed the tree backwards. Sparrowpaw sat, starry-eyed in amazement.

"Now," Whitewhisker said, perfectly half-way up, "Any cat can learn this move of course, and in fact, you can pull another move with it."

"Oh, yeah?"

Whitewhisker nodded, "It's called the Trunk Spring," he pointed with his nose to a tree behind them, knowing it was too far for him to leap to. "You jump from one tree to another, clear over your enemy's head."

Sparrowpaw flattened his ears, "Why wouldn't you attack?"

"Oh, it's just a scare tactic," he chuckled, "As if seeing a cat climb a tree backwards isn't scary enough. Come on, I'll meet you at that branch."

Sparrowpaw nodded and turned around. Whitewhisker could hear his gulp. Carefully, Sparrowpaw kicked his paws onto the tree and started to slowly ascend. It was a rather unflattering angle on Whitewhisker's end, but the tabby was steadily getting closer and wasn't falling, so Whitewhisker considered it a success.

"Am I there yet?" Sparrowpaw whimpered, tail right in Whitewhisker's face.

Whitewhisker batted it so he'd have reference. "No, sir. Use your tail to feel around. And open your eyes, young tom!"

Sparrowpaw flattened a moment and Whitewhisker moved further along the branch so that Sparrowpaw could feel bark for himself. His eyes hardly open to slits and at eye-height with the branch, Sparrowpaw scuttered that way and reached. It was a clumsy landing, but his worst injuries were a few ruffled patches.

"Scary!" he exclaimed.

"It is the first few times," Whitewhisker admitted with a glance away, "That's our bad side, unfortunately. We're very well coordinated, but we're staring ground right in its face. And all new apprentices are scared of heights!"

Sparrowpaw sighed and panted, and once regaining his composure, spoke. "What's the other move? With your back legs?"

Whitewhisker nodded, "To do a Reverse Branch Swing, you need to hold onto a branch with your hind paws, and start swinging with your front!"

Sparrowpaw looked nervous.

"We don't have to try today," Whitewhisker consoled, tapping him on the shoulder with his white-tipped tail, "Come on, let's practise that climb some more!"

(...)

" _Spar~row~paw…. Spar~row~paw…."_

Sparrowpaw jumped, just getting ready to climb again. He'd been more confident in his paws in that dream than Whitewhisker had ever seen him.

"Oh!" he exclaimed, "That'll be Cherrypaw!" he stepped forward and ran his head under Whitewhisker's, "Thank you very much… I can't wait to see the look on Sharpclaw's face!"

Whitewhisker nodded, closing his eyes. He opened them again in the warrior's den, watching Cherrypaw shake awake her brother. Whitewhisker wasn't quite listening, but Sparrowpaw's face seemed equal to the enthusiasm Cherrypaw always held. Sparrowpaw bounced out of the den, Whitewhisker quietly following. He bounded over to Clovertail, nursing her kits beside the river.

"...Whitewhisker!" Sparrowpaw said, bringing Whitewhisker to attention.

"Do you mean Shortwhisker?" Clovertail mewed.

"No, he's from Skyclan, from all the way back in the old forest!"

Whitewhisker felt a purr rise in his throat. He ran his head over Sparrowpaw's cheek, knowing he wouldn't feel it. He turned his gaze to Clovertail's three little kits, just old enough to have found mossball. Bounce, Rock and Tiny… or maybe they had taken on kit names by now? Whitewhisker wasn't sure. He was thinking about who he'd ask to be their guides, so they too could brag to Clovertail about cats with stars in their fur.


	13. Gorseclaw

Gorseclaw didn't feel good, breaking the warrior code. He was pacing further and further along unfamiliar Thunderclan territory. Neither Birdflight nor the recently-appointed Oakstar let either he or his sister patrol that area. Their blood clan had been ripped from that very area. Birdflight thought it would be too traumatic, seeing it, but in truth Gorseclaw hardly remembered and thought Birdflight was projecting her own fears onto her kits.

He heard the bushes rustle behind him and he immediately slunk down into a hunting crouch. But from the bushes came a soft-spoken voice that he didn't expect.

"...Gorseclaw?"

_Spottedpelt._

Oh, why had Starclan cursed him. He could never explain to his own sister that he was leaving. He couldn't even bear to face her.

He sat up.

"Sp-Spottedpelt… um, kits keep you up?"

He heard her step closer, "What are you doing out here, so late?"

"I…" he gulped, "Just exploring the territory, you know, Birdflight never lets us come here and you know what they say, curiosity killed the cat!"

Spottedpelt flattened her ears and Gorseclaw felt the need to claw his own throat out immediately after realizing that was a kittypet phrase. Spottedpelt sighed and sat down.

"You've always been an awful liar. What's really happening, Gorseclaw?"

Gorseclaw sighed and couldn't tell if it was courage or cowardice that made him face her, head hung. "I'm-I'm leaving. Maybe I'll become a kittypet? Maybe I'll go on a journey to find Skyclan again?"

Spottedpelt looked mortified, her green eyes wide in shock. Is that what his father looked like when the other leaders told him to leave?

"Wh-What? Why?!" Spottedpelt gasped, "You don't want to stay with me? With mom? You don't what to see your niece and nephew become warriors?!"

Gorseclaw blinked, looking down at his paws. Frecklekit and Birchkit loved playing with him so much. He felt his eyes feel with water. He couldn't stay and he couldn't leave. If Oakstar found out he'd tried he'd be exiled anyway.

Gorseclaw gasped, holding back tears, and turned back away. "I'll see you all in Starclan," he promised.

"No!" exclaimed Spottedpelt.

"I love you! I love all of you! I'm so  _sorr-rey-ey….!"_


	14. Spottedpelt

“I name you Frecklepaw and Birchpaw of Thunderclan.”

Spottedpelt couldn’t help the purr rising in her throat. Her kits, apprentices! Exploring the territory for the first time with their new mentors! Her beautiful little warriors. Oakstar, her mate and their father, leaped down from the Highrock and padded over, greeting her with a nod.

“You’re relieved from warrior duties until tomorrow,” he said gruffly.

“Oh!” Spottedpelt mewed, sitting up, “Actually, I was thinking I could stay in the nursery, help around camp. It could be any day now that…” she stopped as Oakstar stared at her, anger welling in his eyes.

“You want to be a  _ medicine cat?”  _ he asked angrily.

“What? No. I just-”

“No,” he said angrily, refusing to hear her out, “No mate of mine will be a medicine cat.”

Spottedpelt blinked, letting her own anger fill her up. “Then I suppose I’m not your mate.”

Oakstar blinked, eyes changing to hurt. “Spotty, no-”

“Don’t call me that!” Spottedpelt, “Only  _ my  _ kits, mother and brother can call me that.”

Oakstar backed up, his already huge mane rising more. “Fine! But don’t think they’re  _ your _ kits.”

“Like you visited them when they were nursing!” Spottedpelt snapped back, not caring if she went too far. 

Oakstar flattened his ears, rushing off toward where Sweetbriar and the nearly full-grown Dawnpaw stood, confused. Sweetbriar ran her thin head under Oakstar’s head. He immediately calmed, even smiling for Starclan’s sake!

Spottedpelt hunched over and bared her teeth.

She should’ve known.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my headcanon is, after she grew up, frecklewish (and her mate seedpelt (i think seedpelt in mv and gc are the same cat), who is a trans girl) had pinestar, alongside flashnose and daisytoe.
> 
> or if you want to be dark, i guess, spottedpelt and oakstar hooked up again and had pinestar (so tigerstar can get that sweet sweet skyclan blood) but sweetbriar made herself his mother?


	15. Weaselwhisker

"Can you believe it?" Rainleap mewed, taking a bite from a sparrow, "What a fink."

Nightfur grunted, taking his own bite, "I've heard of treason but that was ridiculous. He was such a good warrior, too."

"Hiii!" squeaked Mousekit, bounding up to the warriors and tumbling into Rainleap's tail.

"Hey!" she snapped, pulling her tail to her leg, "What have I told you? You  _ask_ before pouncing on someone!"

Neither kit was deterred. "Who are you talking about?" asked Stoatkit as Mousekit rolled back up and rolled over him.

Nightfur picked off a wing feather and tossed it the kit's direction. Stoatkit stood on his hind paws and snatched it, falling over himself. Nightfur let out a  _mrrow_  of laughter.

"Ask your father, kits," he mewed, more nicely than Weaselwhisker had ever heard him. So the kits came tumbling back, and Weaselwhisker's hopes of a nap was long forgotten.

"Dad!" shrieked Mousekit, "Rainy and Nightie were talking about  _th_ omeone!"

"Will you tell us!" Stoatkit went on, "Please?!"

"Okay, okay…" Weaselwhisker said softly, hoping his kits would get the hint. Mousekit plopped down, and Stoatkit sat on his hind legs, rubbing the feather and chewing on the end.

Weaselwhisker had overheard the whole conversation and knew he'd have to tell his kits eventually. He didn't know if they would understand and he prayed to Starclan they weren't traumatized.

"Rainleap and Nightfur were talking about a cat named Maggottail," Weaselwhisker mewed, "Maggottail was… a great warrior," he mewed, knowing Maggottail wasn't anything exceptional to anyone else.

Mousekit stole the feather from Stoatkit and the two laid down, chewing on their separate ends.

"He was one of the fastest cats in the clan, on land or in the trees. Then, one day, after Flystar got his lives, Maggottail took his first. In his dying breath, Flystar exiled him."

Stoatkit dropped his end of the feather and gasped, his full attention now on Weaselwhisker.

"Buzzardtail and Fernpelt chased him off the territory. The next day Flystar went to speak with Starclan… and that was the day Cloudstorm protected us from those evil kittypets!" Weaselwhisker ended, picking up his voice and pretending he was happy talking about it.

"Woah!" Stoatkit mewed, "Papa? Is Maggottail gonna come get us?"

"No!" Weaselwhisker exclaimed, then thought of a way to keep his kits in line, "But he might infect you with his maggots if you jump on another cat's tail without asking!"

Mousekit and Stoatkit squealed, running toward Fawnstep's den. Weaselwhisker figured they were going to get checked at that very moment. He sighed, letting his heavy eyes fall.

They were too young. Yes, he thought, when they were warriors. When they were warriors he would tell them Maggottail was their other father.


	16. Birchstar

"Birchstar's dead."

Birchstar pricked her ears as Beechleap, an apprentice torn apart by a fox on Skyclan's journey, spoke.

"Her daughter's also dead," Beechleap continued.

"How perfect," mewed Mistleblaze, a kit who fell in the river, "They can reunite."

Beechleap shook their head, "Silverheart's staying here, in our Skyclan, so she and Gorseclaw can be together."

"How'd she die?" asked Hawksnow.

Beechleap shrugged. Birchstar, who was listening not too far off but not involved in the conversation, stood. The speaking cats didn't notice. She knew what her intentions were and she knew just what she was doing as she reached the edge of Starclan and leaped down to the waking world along the river.

 _Someone will have to lead Spottedpelt to Skyclan,_ she thought to herself as she started running along the river.

She ran so long that at least two days had passed, but luckily spirit cats didn't need food or sleep. She eventually made it to the gorge that marked the Riverclan-Windclan border. Nodding to herself, she leaped up, gravity losing its hold on her. She leaped up the falls and was met with the meadow that led into Fourtrees. It wasn't her duty to…  _speak_ with Swiftstar.

She padded through the trees, memories flooding back to her of how this was something  _she'd_ helped create. If she'd have known what Gatherings would lead to with her clan-  _great Starclan_ the things at Gatherings that harmed Skyclan- she  _never_ would have helped create Gatherings. Nevertheless, she padded through and turned up to Windclan's territory. She never had seen much of the cats.

She faintly remembered Windstar and she faintly remembered Honeypelt, the tom who'd tried so hard to earn her affections. She sighed to herself. Her grandfather did so much to Windclan. Was them driving out Skyclan now their revenge for Rainswept Flower? She didn't know and it wasn't her  _job_ to know, she'd come tonight for Riverclan.

She ran the Thunderpath and jumped up the Highstones, dashing through Mothermouth. The faintly flowing Moonstone greeted her, nothing like the night she'd become Birchstar. Did she know what Birchstar was here to do? Was she now turning her back on her and Skyclan, just as the clans had.

Rocks couldn't confine her to her other grandfather's fate and rocks couldn't strip her of her lives- she'd used them already.

She placed her paws onto the cold stone and refused to let the icemelt on her spine stop her from her task. She gathered her paws under her and leaped up. Then again. Then again. Her paws were on grass now. She was in the meadow she got her lives in now.

If this meadow was the Moonstone, then Fourtrees was down. She knew there was no Thunderpath in Starclan, just like there hadn't been when her grandfather was still young enough to jump through trees in the blink of an eye.

She could only hope now that Birchstar was somewhere near Riverclan. Could she be talking to Windclan's Birchstar? Did Birchstar even  _know_ Windclan's Birchstar? Birchstar closed her eyes tight. Windclan's Birchstar let Duskstar add one of the most foolish code's to the Warrior Code, he deserved a good clawing himself.

Starclan was full of cats. Full of cats with near-white pelts and black stripes, full of cats who smelled of cold water and kittypet-monster-killed grass. So Birchstar wasn't an odd-cat-out, she got called the wrong name a few times. Birchstar figured there weren't many near-white, black-striped cats with the dark blue eyes she shared with her uncle, so she pretended not to hear. If cats noticed her nub of a tail and realized the cat they were speaking of had a full one, they didn't say.

She stopped once she stepped down the ledges added to the gorge, seeing a creamy-brown tabby and her light gray tabby accomplice. Birchstar crouched down and darted forward, hiding behind a heather bush with her ears pricked.

Birchstar of Riverclan nodded to Birchstar of Windclan in greeting.

"I've heard about you," she mewed, sitting down, "You helped establish the thirteenth code."

Birchstar nodded his blue-gray head, "During my time it was the fourteenth. Cats now have mixed them up."

Birchstar widened her eyes in surprise and nodded.

Windclan's Birchstar nodded, "You're very lucky, you know."

"How's that?"

"If Skyclan was still here, their Birchstar would've clawed your ears off," he flicked an ear, the top cut clean off, "She gave me this for approving Duskstar's law."

Birchstar sucked in air through her teeth, "Starclan cats can get hurt?"

Birchstar nodded, "We can die again, in fact. Birchstar killed me. Nothing happens except that you can't go into the waking world anymore."

"Well, thank Starclan she's gone!" Birchstar said with a laugh.

Little did they know that Skyclan's Birchstar had unsheathed her claws and was preparing to give a Skyclan leap forward. That's just what she did, she landed squarely on Riverclan Birchstar's shoulders, knocking her to the ground on her side. Windclan's had dashed off the second she'd jumped.

The Birchstar under her had wide, scared eyes. "But he said-!" she protested.

Birchstar hissed, raking a claw over her ear. "You think Starclan cats can't  _run?_ You think I didn't watch my clan die along your river?"

Birchstar let out a strained breath, "Skyclan is dead?!"

"Yes! And I hope your clanmates can take their blood on every piece of fish you catch!" Birchstar raised a paw and scored it against the brown she-cat's muzzle, not caring to tell her the truth, before ducking down and clenching her jaws hard into her neck. Until, finally, she stopped moving.

Birchstar knew she was in huge trouble if- Starclan forbid- Duststar or Emberstar found her. So, she left Birchstar's body to wake up again and started dashing along the river, light and starry blood firmly staining her white muzzle and chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not very related note: birchstar is dewpetal's daughter


End file.
